


Cat and Mouse

by therealknifeboy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Sadism, Schizophrenia, Slow Burn, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28522593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealknifeboy/pseuds/therealknifeboy
Summary: can·ni·bal·ism/ˈkanibəlizəm/nounthe practice of eating the flesh of one's own species."the film is quite disturbing at points with references to cannibalism"
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 27
Kudos: 192





	1. Blue Wax Seal

It was a late night for the British boy, being around four in the morning for him. His friends were all sitting around on a discord call with him as he streamed. The light sound of rain falling gently echoed out his window- the sudden light pitter-patter of paws in his hallway was quick to draw his attention away from his computer. 

“Hey guys hold on I think Luca’s trying to get in my room.” As George went to stand up, he heard the muffled response’s from his friends. 

For an unknown reason, his heart began to beat faster, hands clamming up as he went to open the door.  _ ‘It’s just the cat, nothing else.’  _ He tried to convince himself as he opened the door, only to find his cat wasn’t there. 

Hesitantly, he stepped out into the hallway. His eyes were quick to notice the muddy cat paw prints trailing across the floor. 

“Mum-!” George called out, drawing the word out longer than it needed to be, “Did you let the cat in?” He continued down the hallway, waiting for his mom to respond. 

The house was quiet- he felt his stomach twist in fear as if he made one wrong move it’d vomit out onto the floor in front of him. He felt his lungs begin to burn, his mind froze before he let out a breathy exhale.  _ ‘When did I hold my breath-?’  _ The brit questioned. He stood there for what seemed like minutes but in reality, was only a few seconds. 

‘Meow’

“Fuck!” George quickly shot back, looking down at his cat purring against his leg. 

“Luca! Don’t scare me like that!” He felt his heartbeat finally go back down as he crouched down against the hardwood floor. His scarred hand gently pet the cat's head, he loved to feel it purr against him. 

“How’d you get in buddy?” He asked rhetorically as he continued to pet the cat. With a long sigh, he sat up and made his way back to his room. As he sat back down his eyes glanced over his computer with discord pulled up, he let out another sigh when he realized Dream was the only one who was left in the call. 

“Hey I’m back, where’d everyone go?” George hummed out, glancing over at his twitch chat for any sort of clues.

“Well Sapnap had to go do some homework or something and Quackity went to go play Jackbox with Karl.” Dream said, you could hear the smile in his words. 

“Ah okay- Well anyway she scared me half to death, she also got mud all on my floor too so I might have to go soon to clean it up.” George changed his stream layout so it was just him in a Minecraft green screen background. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, am I right?” Dream said, with what seems to be with some sadistic undertones. 

“Aha.. yeah, you’re right dreamy.” A wave of uneasiness washed over George, it felt as though someone was watching him. His head quickly glanced to the wall where his window was, for a split second he thought he saw the outline of a figure- though it washed away with the rain. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the chat fly by with lots of  _ “Ghost pog?” “What's he looking at?”  _ and even the occasional  _ “catJAM”  _

George laughed at a couple of comments in the chat, trying to shake any sense of anxiety that he was feeling before. After another hour of the two chatting, Dream also left the call leaving George alone with his chat. 

After a while, the anxious feeling finally left his stomach. George stayed live for a little longer to talk to his chat for a bit longer. He finally decided to end his stream when he saw the sky outside brighten. It was getting close to six in the morning at that point. 

After he had ended the stream and he brushed his teeth, he remembers the mud that was tracked in by his cat. 

“Shit, I forgot about that!” He thought aloud. With tired steps, he walked towards the kitchen to get some paper towels and clean up the mess. 

He couldn’t help but slow down his steps when he felt the uneasiness start to build in his stomach again.  _ ‘Just clean it up George, it’s not a big deal.’  _ Of course, the words did nothing to help how he felt, or how in seconds he was already in his bed and turning off his bedside lamp. His thoughts were blurring past him but he chose to ignore it, trying to force sleep onto himself instead. 

George’s eyes felt heavy as he finally nodded off to sleep, Luca curling up on the end of his bed with him. 

_ Beep... _

_ Beep... _

_ Beep... _

A tired hand slammed against the small alarm clock, a loud groan of annoyance coming out in the process. 

The brits blurry eyes glanced at the time, 09:00, it readout. 

“Mmm, I love three hours of sleep.” His words were bitter with sarcasm.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed, his bare feet hitting the cold wood floor caused his eyes to shoot open- hissing out at the short discomfort he felt. 

The distanced meowing was the final thing to draw George completely off his bed. To his displeasure, George still had the pit of dread in his gut. It seemed no matter what he did that day the feeling stayed. 

Mindlessly he went through the mental list of things he needed to do that day, blasting through all of them. In what seemed to be a blink of the eye, it was already noon.

As George walked past his mum's room for what seemed to be the eighth time that day, he finally decided to look inside. He had been curious as to why she hadn’t left her room at all that day. 

The door opened with an array creek. Her room was dark, the curtains being closed shut. His eyes glanced over to the bed, eyeing the lump of blankets and pillows that he presumed to be his mother. With a sigh, he left the room, this time trying to close the door without making any noise. He couldn’t blame her for sleeping in so late, she worked the night shifts at the hospital. 

“Time to get food I guess.” He said to no one in particular. 

The brit made his way out the door, looking down to make sure he had put his shoes on. Once he confirmed they were in fact on he let out a satisfied hum as he walked down the stairs of his apartment, making his way to check the mailboxes just in case something was there. 

He grabbed his bundle of keys out of his back pocket, fumbling with them for a second before finally opening his small mailbox. To his surprise, he was met with a prestigious white envelope. It was even sealed with bright blue wax, stamped down into the shape of a mouse skull. 

George looked at it carefully; he noticed the letter had no addresses on it, just his name in cursive letters. He let out a hum of curiosity as he sat in one of the lobby's chairs to open it. There wasn’t much in the envelope, just a small piece of folded paper, it smelt of cologne. 

A soft gasp left his lips as he read over the single sentence on the paper over again. 

_ Hello my little mouse ♡ _

The British boy didn’t know how to feel, something about the abnormal letter was strangely comforting to him. 

-

“I have no clue who it’s from Dream! It was just in my mailbox.” George let out an annoyed sigh. He had called Clay in hopes the other could make sense of what happened, to his dismay he just made it worse.

“Are you sure there was nothing else in the envelope? No money no nothing?” Dreams voice held curiosity, like a child in science class. 

“No, Dream, there was no- why would there be money in it?” His eyebrows furrowed together.

“I dunno just feels like there's something missing ya know?” 

The brit paced back and forth around his cramped kitchen, the feeling of dread was back, only this time feeling ten times worse than before. Luca hopped up on the counter, tilting her head slightly to the side as she watched him walk around.

“I need a nap, this is too much to think of right now.” George ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair.

“Ah- alright then, night George.” Dreams words were hushed.

“Night Clay.” The sudden use of his real name caused a shiver to run up the blond's spine. 

Once the brit hung up, he absent-mindedly made his way back into his room. He never got the chance to go food shopping that day, as soon as he fell asleep he didn’t wake up still the next day.

_ Beep… _

_ Beep… _

_ Beep… _

A sense of déjà vu flooded the brits head as he slammed his tired hand against his alarm clock. 

His nose twitched at the smell of bacon flooding his room. Curiously, his eyes opened, trailing over to his door. 

His feet seemed to have a mind of his own, he found himself walking into the small kitchen to find his mother hunched over the counter, reading something on her phone. 

“Morning mum,” George mumbled out, he walked over to the plate of fresh bacon on the counter, grabbing a few pieces and munching down on them.

“There's a letter for you, left in on the self by the door.” She didn’t bother to look away from her phone as she spoke. 

An uneasy feeling washed over George, gulping down on the bubble that began to form in his throat. 

“Ah- thanks.” As he walked over to the door, he felt his hands begin to clam up, his heart also starting to beat faster. George was never a religious man, but he couldn’t help but let out a quiet prayer to whatever god was out there that it wouldn’t be what he thought it was- oh how unlucky he was it was almost ironic.

He stared down at the crisp white envelope, the same blue wax seal as before, the same mouse skull stamped into it. 

“Fuck.” he mumbled out under his breath, he was almost fearful to open the letter. There was no reason for him to be- yet, for all he knew it could just be some sick prank by the young boys down the hall from him. 

His shaking hands carefully opened the letter, there was more in it than before. Out he pulled a folded letter that smelt of the same cologne, and six, fifty-pound notes. He stared blankly at the money in his hand, unsure what to do with it. Hesitantly, he put it in his pocket.

George let out a heavy sigh as his attention was brought back to the folded letter. Horror filled shock flashed over his face as he read over the words on the page, the neat cursive font almost taunting him.

_ You didn’t anything yesterday my little mouse ☹ treat yourself to something nice tonight for me, please ♡ _

George’s face morphed into disgust as he realized what this meant. Someone was  _ watching  _ him. 

Quietly, George made his way back to his room, tossing the letter and envelope into the trash bin on his way there. 

The walls morphed around George as he walked into his room, he couldn’t get the smell of the cologne out of his head.  _ ‘Why did the wax have to be blue? Do they know? That dumb of course they know your colorblind idiot, they knew you didn’t eat yesterday too. How long have they been watching me?.’  _ George tried to remember any situation in the past that could have been related, he couldn’t pinpoint anything. There were no  _ red  _ flags he could think of, nothing at all. 

His thoughts jumbled around in his head, the more he let his mind wander the more his brain began to hurt. 

The loud slamming of the front door closing brought George from his lost state of mind. 

“Great,” He thought aloud “home alone.” Annoyance dripped his words, trying to cover up how scared he felt underneath it all. 

He sat still on his bed, still trying to fully absorb what was going on. As time grew longer, the silence of the house surely enough became unbearable for the brit to handle. 

Without a second thought, he walked over to his computer and hopped on discord, hoping that someone,  _ anyone _ , would be online. To his luck, Quackity was streaming on the SMP. He was in a call with Fundy. 

A sigh of relief left George’s blushed lips. His hands moved the mouse over to join the call, as soon as he did his ears were flooded with an exaggerated Mexican accent screaming ‘gogy’. 

“Ah- hello to you to Quackity.” A small smile left the brits lips, he was happy for this distraction.

Heavy laughter filled the call, the three of them cracking jokes left and right. After a little bit, they stopped playing Minecraft, it was getting a little boring seeing how it wasn’t a plot-important stream. The three decided to play jackbox with Ranboo and Tubbo. Quackity was still the only one streaming as they played the game. 

The stream went on for another hour, and George was exhausted. He was never one to get socially drained easily, but he couldn’t help but feel extra tired after he had left the discord call. 

With a groan he sat up stretching his body out, listening to the popping sounds his joints made as he did so. His hand reached down to grab his phone from his pocket, only to be surprised when he found the money from before. 

Gently he pulled it out and stared at it. It couldn’t be that bad to spend it- moneys’ money, right? George didn’t notice as he pulled his phone out, he barely caught the brief conversation he had on the phone. He had ordered Chinese food from his favorite restaurant that was on the other end of the block.

Twenty minutes passed in content silence before he heard the gentle knocking at his front door. George hesitantly opened the door only to find a frail old woman holding the two bags of food he ordered. His sweaty hands handed her the money owed, grabbing the bags as he did so. 

The brit mumbled out a quick thank you as he turned away, closing the door with the back of his foot. 

This wasn’t so bad- oh how he was so wrong.

-

It was around three in the morning when George awoke to the blaring noise of his phone ringing. As he went to pick it up, the number it readout was more familiar than he’d like to admit. It was from the hospital his mum worked out. 

He only processed a few words from the other side of the call.

_ Your mom… _

_ Car crash… _

_ Critical condition… _

_ Broken ribs… _

_ Hospital… _

Quiet sobs filled the bare room. George was unsure as to how much time had passed since he had hung up from the call. He felt fear and guilt bubble up in his stomach, it took every muscle in his body not to throw up all over his bed. 

George wasn't sure when he had passed out, but he found himself sprawled out on his bed early morning way before his alarm went off. His stinging eyes glanced over at the alarm clock, 06:39, it readout. 

The brit looked around his room, eyes landing on the window parallel to his bed. His eyes met with the blurry figures that stood out there, watching him. To his surprise, the figure didn't disappear into thin air as he thought it would, it just stood still. 

Fear began to pool in his stomach. George carefully reached over to grab his phone that had fallen somewhere in the bed. His first instinct originally being to call the police, but he dismissed that idea, deciding on calling Clay instead. 

For only a few seconds the brit looked down at his phone to call Clay, only looking back up once he heard the ringing of the phone.

"George? What's going on it's late."

"Oh," George began to whisper out, eyes glancing away from the window. "It's gone."

"What's gone? Are you okay?" Clays voice began to fill with worry, George was speaking in a hushed tone, very unusual for the brit.

"The man in my window, he's gone." The line was silent, for a second George thought his friend had hung up on him. To his relief, there was a long sigh from his friend. "And my mum, I think."


	2. Succumbing to Zero Hesitation

George couldn’t help but stare blankly at the flashing analog clock. It felt as though the minutes were streamlining out into hours, devouring all sense of motivation. His eyes stung, still raw from crying. 

Dream had stayed on a call with him the entire night, he let George rant on about everything he was feeling, no matter how confusing his words got the other seems to understand perfectly. 

Currently, the blond was fast asleep, still on call as he promised to be. The silence left thick strings of dread in George's chest. 

It took everything bit of energy the brit had left in his body to try and sit up, the need to use the bathroom had become a little too much to hold in. 

As he stumbled his way across his room and into the bathroom, his eyes wandered back to the window where he had seen the figure standing.  _ ‘It couldn’t have been real right?’  _ He desperately tried to convince himself that what he had seen was just his imagination, stress even. Though, the letters he had received were making it quite difficult to believe himself. 

George's eyes locked down at his hands, trying to ground himself from the overwhelming feeling of his reality not making sense. 

The letters-

He didn’t realize as his body began to move on its own, walking him out of his room and to the front door. When he went to walk down the stairs to the lobby, he didn’t notice the sharp pain in his foot as he had walked out barefoot. 

All his mind could think of was if there was going to be another letter in his mailbox. His scarred hand reached for his keys, only to find them missing.

“Fuck.” His voice was quiet and cracked.

George's head turned to the main desk, he noticed a familiar face on shift. 

“Hey, Dylan, could you open this for me?” His hand vaguely gestured to his mailbox. 

“Sure, just give me a second.” The American accent sent a shiver of surprise down George’s back, he never seemed to remember that Dylan wasn’t from around here.

After a few moments of waiting, the other walked out from behind his desk and made his way over to George. His large frame towered over the brit, almost intimidating. 

Dylan had light brown hair, very messy. His eyes were a tantalizing green, and his face was littered with freckles. He was well built, you could see the outline of his muscles through his uniform. 

George was brought out of his blushing state when he heard the clanking of keys. His eyes glanced over to his mailbox as he watched the other open it. 

“Looks like you got nothing in there, were you expecting something?” Dylan’s voices flooded George’s ears.

“Ah- well not really.” His eyes moved away, wanting to stare at anything besides the figure in front of him. 

“Well,” A large hand gripped the brit's shoulder, he felt the soft grip against his skin. “Make sure you put shoes on next time.” His voice lowered as he finished his sentence.

George's eyes widened in surprise- the feeling of the cold tile floor soon processed through his dazed mind, causing him to squeak in surprise.

“Fuck-” In a matter of seconds George was already spead walking his way back to his apartment. He didn’t even say goodbye

Waves of embarrassment washed over George as he made his way back to his apartment, how could he have forgotten to put shoes on? His cheeks flushed a rosy pink color, he felt the heat rise in his face as he opened the door. 

The doors unlocked-

It didn’t take much for George to will the unsettling realization away, he’d rather pretend everything's fine than accept the fact of the immense danger he could be in. 

His hands began to sweat as he walked back into his room, quickly realizing he was still on call with Clay. The brits eyes glanced over to the clock on his desk, 05:57, the bright red lights read out.

“Dream, are you awake yet?” His voice was hushed, almost scared to bring up above anything but a whisper. 

He waited a few moments in silence, no response from the other. 

“Fuck-” Georges rubbed over his eyes hashly, when he opened them he had to blink away the spots that formed in his vision. 

He hated not knowing what to do, and he hated the growing feeling of someone watching him.

“Meow” George’s head sapped downwards at his cat who sat next to where he was standing. His heart rate picked up when he saw she had a scab of some sorts forming on her back. It was small enough that it wasn’t something to worry about, the concerning aspect came from how she got it.

“Baby- did you get into a fight?” George crouched down to pet her, for a moment he actually thought the cat might respond. Luca just meowed back at him, pushing her head into his hand as he continued to pet her.  _ ‘Another cat maybe?’  _ He thought to himself. Luca was such a gentle cat though, he found it hard to believe she got into a fight. 

George wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he decided to stand back up. He walked over to where his phone layed, still being charged. Without a second thought he hung up the call with Clay and pocketed his phone. 

In a few seconds George was already dressed, shoes and coat on. He walked over to the front entrance- he stopped for a second.

“Cat food.” He mumbled under his breath, already walking over to the bag of cat food that laid on the side of the counter. He grabbed the small silver bowl that was on the counter top and used it to scoop up the dry cat food. 

“Luca-” He shook the bowl slightly before placing it back on the counter. He watched as the small cat ran up and jumped onto the counter, right away going to eat the food. 

A hum of satisfaction left the short boys blushed lips. 

“Bye kitty cat.” the brit walked back to the door, checking off the mental checklist of things he needed to have before leaving the house. When he determined he had everything he needed he set off, leaving the house and apartment building. 

-

The chilly Autumn air stung the brits pale skin. He could see his breath fog up in front of him. Sadly for George he had to walk everywhere he needed to go, his mum was the only one with a car.

George needed to get to the complete other side of England to the ‘Blackpool Victoria Hospital’. Seeing he lived close to London, this was going to be a major journey for him.

His hands started to go numb as he continued to walk along in the cold, he was just trying to find the train station he needed to get to Preston. 

George glanced down at his phone to check the time, the train he needed to catch left in 12 minutes.

“Fuck fuck fuck-” The brit broke out in a sprint, he was still a block away from the station.

He listened to the pounding of the pavement beneath his feet, focusing on trying to not trip. The sidewalks were covered in a thin layer of snow from early morning, the ground had become quite slippery. 

A gasp left the boys blushed lips as he felt the ground slip out from beneath him. The world seemed to move in slow motion as he watched his body fall to the cold, hard floor. Sharp stinging pains shot up from the palms of his hands and knees. 

As the brit looked down he noticed small bits of blood that began to seep through his pants, soon he noticed bits of pebbles that stuck into the palms of his hands. 

Frustration and embarrassment began to bubble in George's gut. He hated the way people were staring at him like he was some sort of comedy relief. 

A few moments had passed as George just sat still, he had no motivation to get up. The world around him seemed blurred, even the busy street full of cars and passing people was mumbled in the background, except for the loud cracking sound that went off right next to George. 

George’s head shot up quickly, the first thing he saw was a rather large man with a panicked look on his face. After further inspection he brit noticed his phone, broken into many small pieces under the man's foot. 

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn't see your phone- oh my oh my I’m so so sorry!” The man continued to blaber on, George just sighed, unfazed by the whole ordeal. He cared more about how he most likely missed the only train of the day going all the way to Preston.

“-let me buy you a new one.” Suddenly George was paying attention.  _ ‘Buy me a new one?’  _ He thought to himself. 

“You don’t have to do that, really it's not that big of a deal.” The conversion at hand became less interesting to the brit once again, his attention being drawn in by the increasing pain in his fingertips and toes.

“There has to be something I can do to repay you- I feel so bad for breaking your phone.” The man pestered on, his voice became too annoying for George to deal with. 

“Do you have a car?” George finally asked, cutting off the other.

“I do- why do you ask?” 

“I missed my train.”

A few seconds of silence had passed before the man spoke up again.

“Where do you need to go?” His voice was hesitant.

“The hospital in Preston-”

“Preston? That's three hours away!” The man's eyes were wide in shock. 

“Ah- alright.” George began to sit up, he patted the pockets in his thin coat to make sure he at least still had his wallet and keys. The man just stood still and watched as George began to walk away, he was shocked at how far George needed to travel.

“Where are you going?” The man asked, voice still full of bitter hesitation.

“To Preston.”

“On foot? Are you bloody mad?” The words were harsh, they stung again George’s skin.

“Probably.” 

The atmosphere was cold around the two men, George’s words lacking any care and the others being full of angry concern. 

“Wait-” George stopped walking, “I’ll drive you.” 

A small smile found its way onto George’s lips as he turned around. His face was bright red from the cold, a small bit of snot threatened to drip out his nose; he looked like a child.

The other motioned for him to follow behind, so he did, without any hesitation he followed the man who had just broken his phone. The man he didn’t even know the name of-

“What’s your name?” George tilted his head slightly as he followed close behind the man. 

“Wallis, what bout you?” Wallis was a big guy, he had on a bright red puffy coat and black sweatpants. He had short buzz cut hair that was a dark brown, his eyes were just as dark. He gave off a fatherly aura, one that made George just him despite just meeting him. 

“George.”

-

The car was small and cramped, it smelt of old chips and stale cola. There was a small plush snail that hung from the center mirror, George was soon to learn the snail's name was also George. 

Wallis had a strange sense in music, you’d assume he’d listen to a sort of pop music but the pair found them blasting songs by ‘Mindless Self Indulgent’ and ‘Hollywood Undead’ 

George couldn’t help but feel pleasantly at peace in the strange situation. He pushed the thoughts of not getting into strangers' cars to the back of his mind as he loudly sang along to ‘Molly’.

“She’s a good girl and it felt great to be a liar- oh! Liar! Ohh oh-” The pair sang loudly, only stopping a few times to let out a sarcastic joke about the lyrics or laugh. 

After about a half-hour of driving, Wallis turned down the music. George turned to face him in confusion. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask- why were you so willing to get in my car? I could have been a murderer you know.” His words were soft.

“I could ask you the same, why would you let me in your- ow fuck.” George’s attention was brought back down to his knees, he watched as new patches of blood began to soak through. 

Wallis couldn’t help but glance over to see what had happened, only to let out a gasp. 

“Are you alright? Why are you bleeding?” His words were fast.

George didn’t respond, he just started to roll up the legs of his baggy jeans. He cringed at the sight before him, his knees were skinned in some places, and others the skin had bunched up on itself.  _ ‘Did I skid when I fell?’  _ George asked himself. 

Small drops of blood beaded from the wounds, some already started to drip down the sides of his legs. 

George searched through some of his pockets. He let out a hum when he found a crumpled bundle of napkins in one of them. 

He spit on them and used them to wipe off the d that was dripping down his leg. 

“There's a drug store up ahead.” Wallis’s eyes were glued to the road. George just hummed in response. 

The pair sat in awkward silence, both waiting to get to the store.

A minute had passed when Wallis finally pulled into the small parking lot in front of the store. It looked old, potholes were everywhere. 

“Okay so you stay here I’ll go in and get some things for-” his eyes glanced down at George’s knees, he was able to see the full extent of what happened. “Your knee.”

“Could you get me a hot chocolate?” George didn’t look up as he spoke, he was too busy making sure he had no more pebbles on his hands and knees.

“Sure.”

With that Wallis left the car running as he walked into the small drug store, leaving George alone with his thoughts. 

After George confirmed the other couldn’t see him anymore, he began to open up compartments in the car, looking around for something, anything. His heart rate began to pick up as he searched more and found nothing. 

Every bone in George's body was screaming at him to get out of the car, but he stayed. Any minute now Wallis would get back, he had to hurry. 

There was a box in the back seat. As he reached to grab it, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. George jumped up, banging his head against the roof of the small car.

“Fuck-!”

“What were you doing?” When had Wallis gotten back?

“Wanted to know what was in the box.” George mumbled out, rubbing the top of his head with his now throbbing in pain hand. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” George's eyes glanced up to meet the others, that fraze- where had he heard it before? 

Before he could think much else on it, Wallis continued to speak. 

“Here's your hot chocolate, let me take care of your scraps for you alright?” George couldn’t do anything but nod in response had he grabbed his drink out of the others hands. 

As the other went to work cleaning and bandaging up George’s knees, he hummed a familiar toon. It brought a sense of calmness over George, it reminded him of his mum.”

“I have a boy myself, clumsy bastard I’ll tell you that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” George took a sip of the hot chocolate. He cringed back as he felt it burn his tongue.

“You remind me of him. He’s off in college right now, it’s his mum's week to pick him up.” The bandages were wrapped tightly around his knees, it made the scrapes sting more. 

“Is that why you agreed to take me?” The younger's voice softened, he almost felt bad for snooping around earlier, almost.

“Yeah, and the fact you looked like you’d freeze to death. Why did you even go out without a proper jacket?”

“Don’t own one.”

George wasn’t sure when they had started to drive again, he found himself leaning up against the window. His eyes felt heavy, too heavy. 

“You look tired, why don’t you go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Wallis’s voice was soft, practically lulling the other to sleep. 

“What's in the box?” George pestered on, he refused to fall asleep.

“Stubborn aren’t you? Just sleep.” His words seemed harsher this time, more like pins and needles. 

“What was in the drink?” The world around George began to fuzz into a blurry mess. He stuck one of his hands out in front of him, it was barely visible. 

“Go to sleep dammit.” The words felt heavy in George’s ears. 

“Did you trip me earlier?” All George had to do was hold on, he could feel sleep creeping up all over his body. 

“Shut up-”

“Did you break my phone on purpose?”

“I said shut up-”

“Are you the one sending me letters?”

“What? No- I-” 

George felt the car come to a stop, a red light he assumed.

Now.

Before he could open the car door to roll out asleep consumed his entire body. The world went quiet. 

He felt alone. 

  
  



	3. Melting Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the slow update! I had some really bad writer's block

The thin brit shot up from his sleep. He gasped loudly as he looked around at his surroundings, it was like there was a cinder block constantly pressed against his lungs. 

His ribs throbbed with pain as he moved around more, desperately wanting his brain to process what the hell just happened. 

Not even a moment later his eyes landed on the end of the bed he sat at, Luca? The small feline friend sat curled up in a ball on the end of his bed, quietly purring away in her sleep. 

As his mind began to calm down he noticed that he was in his own room. Everything was the same. There were still dirty clothes thrown on the floor, the bathroom door left slightly ajar. Even the glass of water he had placed on his bedside table a few nights ago was there, half-drunken. 

However, the small digital clock that laid right next to him was unplugged, no, the entire cord that would typically connect to the wall was cut off. There was a sticky note stuck to the front of it that read out ‘fake’.

The house was quiet, the only noises the brit could hear were the sounds of cars driving by outside. 

A thought floated through George’s head, ‘Did that all really happen?’. The only way he knew how to prove whatever that mind fuck that happened was real was to see if his phone was broken.

He began to scurry around his room, digging through all the pant and jacket pockets. He found loose change, pocket lint, and even some old recites but still no phone. 

After what seemed like ages he finally came up to the last jacket on his floor, a ripped black jean jacket that he couldn’t remember if it was his or not. 

Carefully he reached into the first pocket, nothing. As he went to check the second pocket he noticed something metallic shining back at him. His ears began to ring slightly as he reached to pull it out. 

To his utter surprise, it was his phone, completely unbroken. George sat still just staring at his phone, it took him a minute but he realized something was different about it. It no longer had a screen protector on it. 

His once comforting bedroom now felt like hell. The walls seemed to be closing in on George. Every step he took felt like needles, he could barely breathe.

_ Ring… _

_ Ring… _

_ Ring… _

“Hello?” George rasped out, he hadn’t even realized when he had picked up the ringing phone in his hand.

“George! Where the hell have you been? I've been calling and texting you for five fucking days! You can’t just  _ keep _ disappearing like this.” The voice on the other end of the line spoke out, George couldn’t tell who was yelling at him yet.

“Clay?”

“Yes, it's Clay- George what the hell happened?” The once harsh tone was now soft and full of concern. 

“I- I don’t know.” 

“Did you hallucinate again?” 

“Again?” George moved his phone down onto the ground, putting it on speakerphone.

“George, baby, this happens a lot to you. Don’t you remember?” Clay's words were soft. “Just tell me what happened okay? It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t believe you-”

“I know, it’s okay to not believe me.”

The brit wasn’t sure what to do. His chest was screaming at him to just vomit out everything that he thought had happened, but his brain was screaming as well, saying that Clay was lying to him. The internal battle he was facing made him want to throw up.

“I went to see my mum at the hospital, then I tripped and-” He froze.

“George?”

George didn’t respond, he was too busy shuffling out of his pants to see if the scabs were real. Once the pants were off he hissed in discomfort.

His knees were poorly bandaged up with blood-soaked wraps. With sweaty, shaking hands, George went to unwrap it. More pain shot up his legs when the wounds touched the air. 

“You liar.” George hissed out, he grabbed his phone to take a picture of his knees, but before he could do so Clay spoke out.

“George, did you get hurt?”

“Yes-”

“This proves my point even more then.”

George hesitated before asking the other ‘how so’.

“Because it means you got hurt while hallucinating. You probably actually went outside and tripped, you maybe even got a concoction from it.”

“I- I need to go.” George’s head began to hurt the more he wondered if he was actually hallucinating. 

“Alright just be careful okay?”

George hung up without responding, he didn’t care how rude it was. All he could worry about was trying to rationalize what hell just happened and calm himself. 

The more he lookers back on the memory the less they made sense. He couldn’t even remember the guy's faces anymore- was it even a guy who had kidnapped him? 

Reality seemed to be melting out from under George as he began to scurry his pants back on and walk towards the door, there was one thing that George knew he could count on being real.

His ribs ached as he stepped out into the apartment hall, though he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it right now. There was something more important he needed to check. 

“If it really happened they would have saw.” George mumbled under his breath as he walked into the apartment lobby. Quickly, he grabbed out his bundle of keys from his pocket and opened the small mailbox.

It was almost orgasmic to see the crisp white envelope, however, the consistency of the letter George was hoping for wasn’t there.

The once royal blue wax was now, from what George assumed, a light brown. The stamp that was used to press down the wax was now in the shape of a simple kitchen knife. Even the musty cologne George was subconsciously hoping to smell again was gone, there was no scent at all. 

An unpleasant feeling crept up the brits spines as he began to open the letter. To his luck it was still handwritten in the messy curve he was used to.

_ Hello my little mouse _

_ I’m sorry to say this will be my last letter to you  _

_ But do not worry _

_ I will see you soon _

_ Go to the local emergency room and get yourself fixed up _

_ I hate to see your delicious body damaged _

_ ♡ _

George found twenty pounds in the envelope, most likely to cover the cost of a doctor's trip. The conversation he and Clay had earlier began to melt away from his memory as George started to walk out of the building. 

There was a new layer of snow gently blanketing the ground around him. When had it snowed? As he continued to walk around the numbing pain once again started to flood over his feet, his bare feet turning a purplish red the longer he was outside. 

The streets were bare, no cars or humans dared step outside in the frozen air. The sky was a dark grey, the time unknown, all George could recognize was the small emergency room coming up into his vision. 

“Fuck.” The brit mumbled under his breath, he hadn’t realized he had already walked into the warm building. The numb pain rapidly changes into a throbbing stinging as the warmth absorbed his chilled body. 

His vision was slightly blurred as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the LED lights. It looked similar to those overly edited videos you’d see over-romanticizing overdose.

‘Sir? Can you hear me?” George’s attention was quickly brought to the short nurse that stood in front of him, her face was painted with false concern. 

He wasn’t to respond yes, but the words got lost in his mouth; he ended up just half haphazardly nodding in acknowledgment. 

The world began to swirl around him once again, just like it had when he was kidnapped-? It was like he was watching himself from above. George's small body was gently pushed into a wheelchair, being rushed into what he assumed was the emergency room. 

“Where do you live?” One of the nurses asked, her voice was full of static. 

“Stratford.” The word echoed in his head as he spoke. 

“Well yeah we’re in Stratford Sir, I mean what area of Stratford?” Her words were more static this time, it was harder to hear what she was saying. 

“Wolverton, I think.”

“Wolverton? That's the next town over sir, at least three miles away! Did you walk all that way here?” 

“I did?” George was shocked about how far he had walked, it had only felt like a few minutes to him since he had stepped outside. 

“Well I’d assume so, you're barefoot and experiencing hypothermia.” That was the last thing George heard before the world around him blurred into a dark nothingness. 

_ A figure stood in front of George. It had no face, instead, it was replaced with a mouse skull. The figure wore a three-piece black suit, in its right hand, it held a crossbow. There was blood splattered all over its body, mostly concentrated on its hands.  _

_ The darkroom the two stood in began to fill with some sort of bug- maggots. George was quick to realize he was completely naked. He watched in horror as the maggots began to burrow into his body, eating away at his flesh.  _

_ He screamed for help but no words came out of his mouth.  _

_ The only sound George could hear was the loud static that surrounded his body, it hurt his ear to the point of them beginning to bleed.  _

_ “Please-” His words were barely a whisper, he doubted the figure could even hear him. “help.” _

_ The figure slowly raised up the loaded crossbow that it held tightly in its hand, even in the darkroom he could see the tendons in its hand flex with every movement.  _

_ He watched in slow motion, the thick arrow twirling almost gracefully towards his head. Like a morbid ballet, the arrow buried itself into his skull, it brought warmth and tranquility as it shot straight through his head.  _

His mind smelt like something had crawled inside and died, letting its body rot into a mushy nothingness. Blinding white flooded his vision before it blurred into what he believed to be a hospital room. 

There was a mild beeping from a heart monitor that sat to his left.

George hated hospitals, especially when he didn’t remember how he got in them. The IV tube felt like it was wrapping itself around the brits arms, trapping him in place. He hated the putrid smell that had yet to disappear; he hated the bright lights that were causing him to have a headache.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed the figure from his /dream/? It made no movement, it just stood still staring at him. 

“Go away.” He mumbled towards the figure. To his surprise it listened, it disappeared into a pile of dust on the polished floor. 

“Sir I can’t go away, we need to talk about your condition.” 

George nearly screamed at the soft feminine voice that appeared out of nowhere. He thought he was the only one in the room. When had the frail nurse walked in?

“I- sorry.” His voice felt foreign, it wasn’t his yet it came from his mouth.

“It’s alright sir, as I was saying your condition stabilized. You had passed out when you first showed up here so we were worried you had some sort of internal bleeding but you had none. We stitched up your knees already and cleaned out your feet. How did they even get so infected? They were completely cut up and there were a few rocks and shards of glass wedged into them.” 

“I walk around a lot I suppose.” The nurse chuckled at George’s response, it made his chest flutter.

“Am I free to be discharged yet?”

“Yup! Do you need help sitting up?”

George just shook his head in response, he was about to ask about the IV in his arm but when he looked down the tube was gone, and so was the heart monitor. 

The nurse handed him his clothing, and a shitty pair of sandals. He gave her a weird look as he put the clothing back on. 

“We can't have you walking out barefoot now can we?”

“No ma’am.” He gave her a half-assed smile and he began to walk out of the room, the nurse followed right behind him. She put her cold hand on his shoulder to guide him out of the maze-like hospital.

As they walked through the winding corridors, George noticed how empty the hospital seemed. There wasn’t any chattering or babies crying. He didn’t even see a single patient as he walked out of the building.

The sky was a dark gray, clouds stretched far across it. It was definitely winter George thought as he began to walk home. He could feel the cold air bite at his bare skin, it gave him a sense of grounding. The pain he felt was truly the only thing he could trust to be real. 


End file.
